Someone To Watch Over Me
by parttimeficwriter
Summary: Ruth and Harry fluffiness. That's about it really!


**I'm aware I said no new fics but it seems that I can't get rid of the fic bug! Sorry about that... :P **

**Dedicated to Fluffyspook.**

* * *

"To Colin," slurred Malcolm, as he held his shot glass high in the air.

His female companion swayed precariously on her bar stool for a minute before lifting her own shot glass and loudly repeating the toast. There was a silence between them, as they concentrated on coordinating their hands and mouths enough to down the alcohol with minimum spillage, which Ruth broke as she coughed and then hiccoughed repeatedly.

"Same -_hic-_ same again?" she asked through her hiccups and gave an over enthusiastic wave to the barman when Malcolm nodded.

"I'm not serving you anymore, love. I think you've had enough," the barman told her, preparing himself for the inevitable drunken protests that usually followed such decisions. He could see the woman was having trouble focusing because she had one eye screwed shut and was squinting at him through the other one.

"You- you're probably right Mr," she paused, obviously unsure of how she was supposed to address him, "Mr Barman."

"Do you need a taxi?"

"That won't be necessary," interjected an authoritative male voice, "they're with us. We'll see they get home."

Ruth swivelled slightly on her bar stool, almost falling off it completely in the process, to find Harry and Zaf stood behind her. She gave them both a drunken grin and swayed on her chair as she moved to stand up. Harry's hand automatically reached out and steadied her as she teetered on her heels. Zaf moved around them both and went to coax Malcolm away from the bar as she leant in to Harry and lowered her voice. "I think I'm a teensy weensy bit drunk," she confided, and it made him chuckle.

"I noticed," he said, softly. "Shall I take you home?"

She nodded, very slowly. "Please."

---

It had taken a further fifteen minutes to get her out of the bar and into the car due to her insisting on saying goodbye to everyone. Harry had waited, rather impatiently, as she made her way around the group, but had felt the need to step in and usher her along after ten minutes. The fact that he had chosen to step in after she had enveloped Adam in a second hug was not lost on the rest of their colleagues and Harry shot them a warning glare when he detected a knowing smirk or two. Thankfully, Ruth had been too drunk to notice and happily agreed that it was time she should be getting on her way home. The car had been waiting outside as they left the bar and Harry had gallantly steadied her as she stumbled over a cracked pavement.

"Careful," he murmured, wrapping an arm around her waist and pulling her into his side.

"It's the shoes!" she said, defiantly, between giggles.

"Whatever you say, Ruth," he replied, shaking his head at her as he opened the car door.

"Are you making fun of me?" she pouted as he helped her onto the seat. She was sat with her feet still out of the car and looked up at him from beneath her dark lashes as he knelt beside her on the pavement.

"Never," he whispered, seriously, as he held her gaze for a moment longer than was necessary. She looked adorable and he found himself wishing he could reach up and trace her pouting lip with his thumb. He coughed and looked away all too aware of his driver discreetly watching their exchange. He picked up her feet until she swivelled sideways and was finally inside the car properly. She was silent as he slid in beside her and quietly gave the driver her address and, as the car set off and he turned his attention back to her, he worried that he had somehow upset her.

"Ruth," he said, quietly, "is everything alright?"

She turned her head painfully slowly and briefly screwed her eyes shut before opening them again. "There's three of you," she told him, and he couldn't help but snort lightly at her admission. "I have enough problems coping with only one of you," she confessed, with a smile, and he felt his stomach flutter in response to it.

"I'm sure there's a compliment in there somewhere," he murmured, eventually, settling for a mildly flirtatious tone.

"Oh yes!" she agreed, enthusiastically, nodding her head. "You're really lovely. Perfect, in fact," she declared as she went to lean into him a little bit but chose the wrong moment to do so and ended up sprawled half over him as the car took a sharp bend. Her hands pawed his stomach and thighs as she tried to right herself again and Harry closed his eyes briefly and willed his body not to react to her proximity or drunken fumbling. Finally in control of himself, he helped a now giggling Ruth upright and shifted slightly so that she could lean her weight against him without fear of losing her balance again. "I think I'm going to regret saying that in the morning," she whispered, between giggles.

He couldn't deny the truth in that, knowing her as he did, but he tried to offer her some form of reassurance all the same. "You might forget you said it," he offered, with a comforting smile.

"I don't think you will," she whispered, making more sense in her drunken state that he had expected, and all he could do was look at her. She was right, he'd never forget the way she was looking at him as she said those words to him, or how her warm body felt as it had been pressed against his so briefly. He swallowed hard and pushed the urge to kiss her senseless away. No matter how much he wanted to, he wouldn't take advantage of her. He took a mental cold shower and had a stern word with himself about self-control.

"Ooh, we're here!" Ruth said, happily, seemingly oblivious again to the effect she was having on him.

---

Getting her inside the house had been less traumatic than he had feared but he had had to laugh at the sheer concentration on her face as she clung on to his arm and focused on steadily putting one foot in front of the other. She had deferred the task of finding her keys to Harry and laughed more than was necessary at the image of him rummaging through her handbag and swearing as he pulled out practically every other item in there first.

"Bloody Hell, Ruth," he grumbled, as he finally fished the keys out and handed her the bag back, "how much stuff have you got in there?"

"Just essentials," she retorted, still sniggering, as he unlocked the door and led her inside.

He flicked the light on and was treated to the sight of Ruth trying to shrug out of her coat as she simultaneously tried to push her boots off with her feet. He watched her struggle for a moment, chuckling softly as she swore repeatedly and tried to coordinate her stubborn limbs, but was compelled to move swiftly when she swayed ominously and tripped over her own foot. He caught her in time and pulled her upright again, only for her to overbalance once more, this time colliding with the bulk of him. His arms automatically wrapped themselves around her small frame as her hands braced against his chest in an attempt to steady herself and she was pleasantly surprised at how firm it felt beneath her finger tips. So much so that she couldn't help but let her hands smooth over his chest slowly as she looked up at him from beneath her eyelashes.

"My hero," she said, in a stage whisper, and Harry had to swallow hard against his desire as her hands roamed his chest.

He coughed and extricated himself, carefully, from her wandering hands. "We should get you to bed," he murmured and, despite being secretly thrilled at her suddenly flushed face and shallow breathing, hastily clarified himself. "You need to sleep it off."

"Yes, you might be right." She gave a small, self-conscious laugh and reached out to the banister to steady herself, "I'm not sure I can get upstairs by myself though."

He smiled at the helpless expression on her face and gallantly offered his arm out to her before leading her up the stairs.

---

Once upstairs and safely inside her bedroom, Harry helped her onto the bed and, at her request, passed her the pyjamas that were on the chair in the corner of her room.

"I'll, uh, I'll go get you some water whilst you change," he whispered, suddenly, as he watched her reach up to undo the buttons on her blouse.

"Ok," she replied, far too distracted with concentrating on the buttons to realise what she was doing to him.

He returned, five minutes later, to find her with her pyjamas on inside out and sitting rigidly in the centre of the bed. "Ruth?" Her eyes met his as he walked over to the bed and placed the water on her bedside table but she didn't respond. "Are you ok?"

She gave a short nod and then closed her eyes only for them to pop open again suddenly.

"What is it?" he asked, concern etched across his face. "Is there anything I can do?"

"Make the room stop spinning," she muttered, imploringly. "Please, Harry, make it stop."

"I would if I could, sweetheart," he whispered, forgetting himself as the endearment rolled off his tongue, and edged himself onto the mattress next to her. He touched her arm gently to get her attention on him. "Focus on me for a minute, see if that helps."

She obediently settled her gaze on his face and concentrated on keeping his image from moving. Harry wasn't sure if it was working or not but was becoming increasingly alarmed at how pale and sickly she was beginning to look. "Ruth, are you going to be sick?"

"No," she said, vehemently, and shook her head for emphasis, realising too late that shaking her head was not the best idea she had had. "No," she repeated, in a less than convincing tone and Harry gave her a look. "Yes," she finally admitted and the two of them were eerily still for a split second before they both hurriedly leapt off the bed and sprang into action.

Harry loitered outside the bathroom, wincing slightly as he heard her heaving, and wondered if he should go in and offer some form of comfort or just leave her to it. In the end, he found that he couldn't just leave her to be ill and miserable, and found himself slipping inside the open door. He crossed over to the sink, wet a flannel and moved to sit on the floor beside her. He rubbed her back gently and mopped her brow with the damp flannel as soon as she flushed the toilet and moved to sit up. He helped her off the floor and went to retrieve her glass of water whilst she brushed her teeth vigorously.

"Here drink this," he said, softly, as he came back in and handed her the water.

She greedily drank it down, refilled it and then sipped at the second glass full. "Feel better?"

"A bit," she whispered, clutching onto the glass in her hand.

"Come on, let's get you to bed." His hand moved to her elbow and he guided her back to her room. She sat on the bed and then gingerly moved to lie down, her head resting against the plump pillows as she settled herself.

"Ugh," she moaned, as if in pain, "why didn't you stop me, Harry?"

He looked at her for a brief moment and then busied himself with covering her with the bed covers. "I wanted you to have time to grieve, in whatever way you saw fit," he admitted, quietly, as he avoided looking at her.

Her hand reached out and covered his, compelling him to look at her. She tugged on his hand until he got the message and perched on the bed at her side. There was something in her eyes that made his pulse quicken and, before he knew what was happening, she had leant up and pressed her mouth against his. Their lips brushed together, briefly, and he swore he felt the tiniest flick of her tongue against his top lip, before she pulled away, murmuring 'thank you.'

He was still reeling from the fact that she had kissed him and closed his eyes to try and quash his urge to follow through with pulling her into his arms and kissing her soundly. As much as he might want to do that, he wouldn't take advantage of her drunken state, and, once he felt suitably in control, he opened his eyes, expecting her to be watching him but instead was greeted by the sight of her sleeping soundly. He rolled his eyes before briefly shaking his head in disbelief.

"Sweet dreams, Ruth," he whispered, reaching out to brush a finger across her cheek. He took one last look at her sleeping form and left before he could change his mind and stay and watch over her all night.

---

Ruth opened a bleary eye and squinted at the alarm clock. She was slightly surprised to find that it was after 9am but reasoned that, if the pounding in her head was anything to go by, she had probably needed all the sleep she could manage. She slowly dragged herself upright and rubbed her hands over her tired face in the hope that she might feel a little more awake for doing so. On finding it no help at all, she quickly debated the merits of a shower over more sleep and resignedly plumped for the shower, hating the thought of wasting the day in bed, no matter how ropey she felt.

She forced herself out of bed and padded to the bathroom, automatically flipping the light on and then the shower before starting to get undressed. It was only as she looked down and saw that her top was inside out that she had an inkling of just how drunk she must have been the previous evening. As she thought about it, she suddenly realised that she didn't have much recollection of getting home. She frantically searched her memory and was disappointed and slightly alarmed to find the last thing she remembered was being cut off by the bar man. As she stepped into the shower and was hit by the refreshing stream of hot water, she was comforted by the thought that she had been amongst friends and surmised that one of them, probably Jo, had brought her home. Relaxing slightly, she allowed the water to cleanse and revive her, and tried not to think about the missing parts of her evening too much.

---

Washed and dressed in some clean pyjamas, Ruth decided she was feeling sufficiently well enough to venture downstairs to find breakfast of some kind. She had just switched on the kettle and was warily sniffing the milk to make sure it hadn't yet gone off when the doorbell rang. Cursing softly, she replaced the milk in the fridge and headed for the door.

"Harry?"

"Morning, how're you feeling?" he asked, eyes full of concern.

"Um, not too terrible but I've definitely felt better," she answered, slightly confused as to why he was there.

"Good. I brought coffee and bagels," he explained, and her eyes registered his hands were full.

"Oh, er, sorry. Come in."

He gave her a smile as he passed and couldn't resist giving her a slight wink as he said, casually, "Nice to see your pyjamas are the right way round this morning."

Mouth open and confusion etched across her face, she followed him into the kitchen and watched as he fussed about with the coffee and bagels he had brought.

"My p-pyjamas?" she repeated, warily, suddenly aware of a sinking feeling in her stomach.

He looked up and passed her one of the coffees. "You don't remember me bringing you home, do you?"

"Y-you?" she stuttered, eyes wide as a sudden fear gripped her that she might have done something to embarrass herself in front of him. "I-I thought Jo might have brought me back."

He smiled at her over the rim of his coffee cup. "No, the pleasure was all mine."

She fiddled nervously with the cup in her hand. "Did, um, did I do anything stupid?" she whispered, desperately hoping that she would be spared from any embarrassment.

"No." His voice was low and although she felt relieved at his answer she couldn't shake the feeling that he wasn't being completely honest with her. His eyes burned with a sudden intensity as he watched her and, as ever, she was the first to look away.

"I, uh, I should get dressed," she mumbled, cheeks reddening slightly, and scurried from the kitchen before he could reply.

---

She spent the first ten minutes upstairs locked in the bathroom whilst she splashed cold water on her face and had a stern word with herself about excessive drinking. It was one thing to get completely drunk and then not remember getting home but to have been that drunk in front of Harry and then have no recollection of what she might have said or, worse still, done was just plain scary. She tried desperately to remember something, anything, from the night before and was so annoyed with herself when nothing came to mind that she threw the towel over the bath and marched off into her bedroom.

She stomped about her bedroom as she dragged a pair of well worn jeans out of her wardrobe and shoved them on, muttering under her breath as she did so that she was an idiot. It didn't help that she wasn't sure if she was more annoyed at being in such a state or that she couldn't remember time spent alone with Harry. She crossed over to her chest of drawers and found a warm, comfortable jumper to put on and had her head half way through it when she suddenly came to an abrupt halt. Out of nowhere the image of Harry sat on the edge of her bed had popped into her mind and she was slightly startled by it. Slowly, almost as if she was afraid she might chase the memory away, she finished putting her jumper on and then closed her eyes and concentrated on the image in her mind. It took a while but, ever so slowly, fragments of conversation were coming back to her and it was then that she remembered leaning into him and brushing her mouth against his.

---

"You needn't have waited for me," she said, quietly, as she re-entered the kitchen and found him sat at her kitchen table drinking the last of his coffee and eyeing the bag of bagels thoughtfully.

"I brought them for you," he said, with a small shrug, as he looked at her. She blushed as his eyes found hers and his curiosity was piqued. Had she remembered something? The way she was suddenly trying to avoid looking directly at him as she rambled, softly, something about sharing them certainly suggested it. He wondered which part of the evening had resurfaced and remedied to find out before there breakfast was over. "Need a hand with anything?"

"Oh, um, no. Thanks," she garbled as she shoved cutlery and plates on the table and then sat down. They ate their food quietly, Harry openly watching her as she cast furtive looks in his direction between bites. His amusement at her behaviour showed plainly on his face and he wondered how long it would take her to pluck up the courage to talk to him about whatever it was she had remembered.

He wasn't kept waiting long. She stood to clear their breakfast and tried her best to look casual as she reached across for his plate. "Harry?"

"Ruth."

"About last night..." she trailed off, losing her nerve as he gazed at her unreservedly, and scurried over to the sink. She stood with her back to him and tried to regain her confidence as she messed about filling the sink with warm water.

"What about last night?" he murmured, encouragingly, in her left ear. She jumped slightly at the sound of his voice and twisted her neck to look at him. There was something in his gaze that gave her the strength to keep going and the words tumbled out of her mouth easily.

"Would you tell me if I had done anything stupid?" she asked, shrewdly, and felt her stomach knot as he gave her a rueful smile.

"Probably not."

"Harry!"

He smiled at her sweetly. "I'm a gentleman, Ruth. I don't kiss and tell."

"I'm sorry?" she whispered, trying and failing to sound clueless, as she turned to face him properly. She rested her back against the kitchen counter but they were still stood closer than she could ever remember being to him.

"It's just an expression, Ruth," he murmured, eyes glued to hers.

She swallowed hard. "Is it?"

"You tell me," he whispered, hoarsely, as he shuffled a half step closer to her. Her hands seemed to move of their own accord and she was aware of them travelling up his chest before she felt the soft flesh of his face beneath her finger tips. Daringly, she pushed herself up on her toes and pressed her lips to his warm, waiting mouth.

"It's not just an expression," she mumbled, between kisses, and he responded by wrapping his arms around her small frame and deepening the kiss until they were tongue tied and breathless. "That was even better than I remember," she murmured, turning an adorable shade of pink, as they rested their foreheads against each other.

"Ah, so you _do_ remember," he teased, gently.

She moved her head back slightly and looked up at him from beneath her thick, dark lashes. "It's a little...blurry."

He smiled at her. "Let's see if we can make it any clearer," he whispered seconds before he crushed his mouth to hers again and occupied her with the most intense kiss she had ever experienced. "Any better?" he asked, eventually, as he released her kiss swollen lips.

"No," she lied, biting down on her lip to stop herself smiling as she pulled his head back to hers, "so we'd better keep trying."

* * *

**Thanks for reading. Reviews make my day! :) **


End file.
